


I Set My Clocks Early

by alexenglish



Series: You're My Future [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Derek Has Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Pack Feels, Post Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3419456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His mom would always say that the last time they saw each other could be the <i>last time</i> they saw each other. So, no matter what mood she was in when she left, she would say “I love you”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Set My Clocks Early

**Author's Note:**

> cheer up fic for RaLeigh. I realized my fic titles are unimaginative so they're all just going to be Fall Out Boy lyrics from now on.

Between junior year and senior year, Stiles starts the thing.

It’s really not a big deal, it’s the opposite of a big deal. It’s just —

His mom would always say that the last time they saw each other could be the _last time_ they saw each other. So, no matter what mood she was in when she left, she would say “I love you”. Even if his dad and her were fighting. She would square her shoulders, take a deep breath, and grit out “I love you”. That usually got his dad to relent and go soft around the edges, enough to smile and say it back. Some days, Stiles is pretty sure that’s all he was ever waiting for when they fought.

So, it becomes a thing. Between losing his mom and Erica and Boyd and Allison. Between almost losing Kira to the berserkers and Derek, with blood running out of his mouth and Stiles’ chest clenching tightly on the decision between staying and going. Then, Scott in homicidal rage mode, fighting with each other. Stiles thought they were going to have to kill him themselves and wow, he was so not down with that.

It starts with Scott, because Scott is the easiest. Most days, Scott is an unsaid “I love you” when they walk out the door and hang up the phone. Scott already knows and that’s what makes it easy. If Scott finds it weird that he says it every day now, more than once a day, he doesn’t comment on it. Which is nice. They’ve had too many heart-to-hearts about his mom. If Scott’s there and they talk about her, Stiles automatically starts to get teary. It’s a reflex at this point.

Then, comes Lydia. He loves her, he really does. Saying it to Lydia is like second nature, especially considering he was in love with her for awhile. The first time it happens they’re at school, he says it between lunch and math. He’s not nervous, but he is nervous at the same time. It’s not that he doesn’t mean it, he just doesn’t want her to take it the wrong way. Love between them is something different than he could have ever imagine. Better now, than all of his weird, adolescent fantasies of ever-after.

Of course, since it’s Lydia, she doesn’t take it the wrong way at all. She gives him an understanding smile that makes all her edges soft and gives him a little kiss on his cheek. That he has to bend down for, because in heels she’s still entirely too short.

“Love you too, Stilinski,” she says, patting his face.

With everyone else, it’s a little different. Stiles isn’t an outwardly affectionate person. It’s hard to just come right out with it. He tries to say it in group situations, so it’s not as intense. He’ll focus on Scott or Lydia and say “I love you, guys,” or “love you all, stay safe,” that kind of thing. There’s no situation he wants to be in where he has Liam one-on-one and has to say it. That’s just weird, mortifying. It’s not like he knows the kid.

It happens with Kira, accidently. The witches senior year are quite possibly the worst thing to happen to them yet. Stiles thought they were past the animal mutilation and sacrificed corpses, boy was he wrong. A terrifying sequence of events leads to Kira lost in the woods, red cape and all. Instead of the big bad wolf coming for her, it’s Stiles. All the wolves are trying to run the witches down. Her eyes are bright orange with hallucination as she tries to fight him, but Stiles wrestles her into the Jeep and keeps her down with mountain ash. When he leaves her in Deaton’s office, he blurts out, “I love you, please be okay”, and is surprised to find out he means it. Kira smiles at him, dazed but happy.

“I was waiting for that,” she says, laughing softly. Stiles rolls his eyes at her and leaves to save the day.

The only person he hasn’t said it to yet is Derek. Every time he goes to say it, Stiles thinks no. He thinks that Derek doesn’t need that sort of thing. That he can get by without it. Sure, they’ve been through a lot together. In it since the beginning and all that, but Derek doesn’t need Stiles to wish him well, keep him safe. There’s that underlying realness to it, too. Ever since Mexico, Stiles knows that if he says it, he’ll mean it. More than Kira and Lydia, differently than Scott. Screw witches, _that_ is terrifying.

Of course, he barely acknowledges the fact that he doesn’t want to say it, when he’s put in a position where he needs to say it. There’s a deep cut across Stiles’ thigh that’s held together by loose bandages and good intentions, red staining the gauze. Derek’s in a similar shape, probably worse, because the wounds are magically inflicted and oozing green. Stiles has magic gunk and blood on his hands and probably in his hair, but they need to part ways. Stiles can’t stay with Derek and make sure he gets home safely. Derek needs to save Scott and Stiles needs to find Lydia and Stiles is actually worried that one of them is going to die this time.

“Fuck, I have to find Lydia,” Stiles says, stalling, hands pressing into the wound more. Derek winces visibly, hand catching Stiles’ wrist to make him let up. Stiles’ hands are drenched in blood when he says, frantically, “I have to go, I’m sorry, I love you.”

Then, he’s running back to his Jeep, throwing the bat into the back and high tailing it back to where he saw Lydia last. He desperately hopes that she’s holding out and not dead, or in any stage of dying that she can’t recover from. He finds her in time and they run half of the pack of witches out with Liam’s help. The other half is chased out by Scott, Derek, and Kira. All in a day’s work. It’s not until Stiles collapses on his bed from exhaustion, after getting his thigh stitched, that he remembers what he said, the terrifyingly vulnerable look on Derek’s face in response.

There’s no kind of idiocy like Stilinski idiocy, so when the searching, confused looks from Derek don’t stop, he says something.

“I say it, sometimes,” Stiles says, halfway out the door and halfway inside. Luckily, the loft is empty of everyone except for them. Derek’s eyes are wide as he looks at Stiles. It feels like some sort of standoff. “It’s like a goodbye. You know, not like I meant it like that. I meant it like —”

Stiles struggles to find the words as Derek stares at him, steady and unblinking. Stiles’ heartbeat is all over the place. He has no idea what to say to make it better. It’s ridiculous. Stiles used to be able to wax poetic about Lydia at a drop of a hat, but with Derek it’s like he’s happily hoarding secrets. He hasn’t even told Scott how he feels.

“So, you said it, but you didn’t mean it?” Derek asks, looking amused. Amusement? Stiles is wearing his heart on his sleeve and Derek is amused. Granted, Derek doesn’t know that Stiles is being truthful. Unless he does and that’s why he’s amused. Stiles’ head is reeling almost as fast as his pulse.

“No, I meant it,” Stiles says, quickly. “But, like, bro-love. Less than Scott, more than Lydia.”

“More than the girl you were in love with since third grade?” Derek clarifies. At some point, they’ve stepped into each other’s personal space. Both of them moved forward. Stiles’ heart thumps, he wishes he stayed closer to the door. Easy escape and all that.

“It sounds worse when you say it like that,” Stiles says, shifting uncertainly. He’s not exactly sure what’s going on. Whatever it is, it’s making his palms sweat.

“Is it?” Derek asks, very seriously. There’s still a smirk around the edges of his mouth. Stiles squints at him.

“No, it’s not worse,” Stiles admits. “It’s just like, hey, I would care if you died.” More than care. Stiles might die a little inside, if Derek died. When he left Derek bleeding magically all over the ground, that was the fucking worst. He had no idea if Derek was going to live or die and wow, does he never want to have to feel like that again.

“I would care if you died, too,” Derek says, with a roll of his eyes. Stiles isn’t responsible for the way his heart stutters around in his chest. Derek’s eyebrows hitch up. Did he just hear that? What the hell.

“I need to see a cardiologist,” Stiles lies, rubbing absently at his sternum. It’s like his entire body is aching with anticipation. Where’s this conversation going? “I’m trying to say that I’m not in love with you dude, stop asking me questions.”

The minute it leaves his mouth, he realizes how much of a lie it is. Saying it out loud, it’s almost like it has a bad taste. Is it obvious to Derek? Stiles’ chest gets tight and uncertain.

“Please, don’t have a panic attack,” Derek says, plainly, like he knows exactly how Stiles is feeling. Stiles scowls at him. The anxious feeling doesn’t go away. “If you have a panic attack, I won’t know what to do.”

“Kissing usually works,” Stiles says, absently. Kissing pretty much stops all signs of a panic attack in its tracks. At least with Lydia it did. Stiles jerks, realizing what he just said. “Oh my god, that sounded like a bad come on! I wasn’t — Jesus, please stop staring at me like that.”

“So, that’s not how you meant it?” Derek asks again. The words feel significant. Stiles can tuck tail and run or he could admit it. What’s through door number three, Bob? The alternate route? Stiles will take ‘chickening out’ for 1000.

“I didn’t come here to confess my love to you,” Stiles says, firmly enough that he believes it himself.

“You just did,” Derek reminds him. Is it Stiles, or are they closer than they were before? Derek’s hand comes to rest on Stiles’ wrist and, yeah, they’re closer than they were before.

“Not really,” Stiles hedges, looking at Derek’s hand. It’s like an out of body experience. There’s only a few ways this could go. It feels like the perfect set up. Stiles might actually get the guy in this situation. Especially, if the way Derek is acting is any indicator. Which, it seems to be. And yet —

“Your heart says otherwise,” Derek says. That is the cheesiest one-liner Stiles has ever heard and it’s probably not meant to be a one-liner at all.

“Can we stop having this conversation?” Stiles asks. He remembers cataloging Derek’s eye color when he held him up in the pool. The greens and blues and starbursts of gold. It’s all there now, along with that Derek sort of intensity that has Stiles’ insides somersaulting.

“Why not?” Derek asks, with a shrug, like it’s easy. Except it’s not easy, it’s nowhere close to easy. It terrifies Stiles completely. The acknowledgement of his feelings is the easy part. It’s acting on them, letting them blossom into something more than a passing fancy. Letting them solidify and become an anchored part of him that ends up meaning so much. That’s what Stiles is having a hard time with. He huffs and scrubs a hand over his face, trying to be delicate.

“If I was in love with you, hypothetically,” Stiles says, trying to ignore the roar of blood in his ears. “I would in no way want to acknowledge or act on that at this point in time.” Derek looks at him curiously, surprised.

“Why not?”

Stiles laughs, but it’s harsh and brittle. 

“Man, how many times have you almost died?” he asks, peeling away from Derek so they’re not as close. The proximity is making it hard to concentrate. “I worry about you all enough as it is. If I was in a hypothetical relationship, due to being hypothetically in love with you, I couldn’t stand to lose you. I would absolutely freak out if I lost you. Hypothetically.” Stiles digs his toe into the ground. The air feels like static.

“Hypothetically, what if I felt the same way?” Derek asks. The look on his face suggests this is painful to talk about. Stiles’ heart convulses in his chest as his mouth goes dry. That’s not a development that he anticipated.

"I didn’t plan for that," Stiles says, watches as Derek steps to him again. Derek’s hand comes up as he drags his fingers over Stiles’ cheekbone, down his face. The touch lights up Stiles’ nerves. 

"Stiles," Derek says, very seriously, standing too closely. 

"Derek."

"I love you."

Stiles was expecting it, but not. He still inhales sharply, unsure. There’s so many things he could say to protest this development. There’s still the threat of their daily lives. Stiles wasn’t kidding when he said he couldn’t handle losing Derek. But. 

It doesn’t seem to matter at all. Every excuse he has flies out his head as Derek’s eyes brighten in amusement and he leans in, kisses Stiles with his whole body. Stiles lights up, can’t help gasping. When they pull away, Derek’s smile is cocky. Stiles swallows, eyes wide.

"I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
